Lifetime
by heartstations
Summary: Albeit he couldn’t love her heartfeltly, implore to fuse as one never ceased. Citrus, in probably bitter-sweet way. KL. Please rr?


**A/N: **When I said this is M-rated, it means I'm not responsible towards your wails about, "What the Hell" or some pleads-you-know-what. You should aware already if you are uncomfortable, I appreciate you more if you settle on move out now. As this said, I just want to remind, I'm a hard fag of Kiraraku and just couldn't resist to not make one XD At last, I greet you a happy reading the probably first and last ficlet for this fandom. And note, grammar is terrible, I know dear.

**Disclaimer: **Gundam SEED doesn't belong to me. But forever Kira and Lacus belong together, y/y?

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_Lifetime_

by pastelcolor

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In a vague reflection of his eyes, she was not a she

She did know just by how his eyes would trace every delicate curve of her being; fiery passions fueled in flare; breaths were unsteady yet ravishingly. In his eyes she found another sweet semblance that definitely not her. Howbeit he was, she pretended like it wasn't—his alluring amethyst was spotlighting lovingly on her only.

That, when his fingers skimmed along velvety surface of her skin—dearly massaged her arms, fluttered so soft raps on her waist; intentionally spluttered the breathless; effortless purrs flowing from her orifice; she still hoped that his gentle touches equally an intact heed. It was always the warms sparks that ignited between the tangling; the sensually moved mouths which interlocking in grip chain that made her blushed; exchanging a stare with her body laid weakly beneath his.

She would remember that this was not his first time—according to how skillful he was with his nibbling and the fingers that moving and maneuvering inside her; a probably expertise he inherited from his previous time. But her thoughts about it would be ravaged away as the motions became so intense that she exploded; pieces were jittering around her limbs, leaving him fawned upon his nectar flittered lips, while her tears welled up; her chest was puffing in skip beat.

And then even when she thought of this; as she wondered if she was selfish or not—because she was sure she was advantaging him, still she clung with eyes tight closed; fingers tangled snugly on his unruly hair, savoring every ersatz moment in gusto while his mouth was leaving a trail of feverishly love bits alongside her exposed, creamy neck.

In the instance like this that she would forget everything—the desire that conquered her ability to refuse and writhed instead; the reminder that from very first he only partially belonged to her. She opted to arching her head backwards as his hands wandered and kneaded two mounds rebounded temptingly; sent every dart of lust danced around both their minds to illicit paradise.

She knew; she saw; she felt—she wept. As his thrusts were assuring her that they joined together, she wished the love they proclaimed in this single act that explaining everything was not a spoof. She had endured all sacrifices and fright that someday the semblance in his eyes would materialize, that she couldn't pretend to be loved any longer. Sure he loved her; he so darn loved her with all gestured possible but when she reflected back to his eyes, she knew those warm stares were not belonged to her.

As she was visibly crying of the bitterness and irony, blended with blindingly cope of heat they engaged in; his thumb descended down from its tortures and caressed the softest streak possible on her cheek. She saw him smiled apologetically yet pulverized her heart at the same time. It was like he knew she was crying for him—for him who never admitted the loss. It was then she felt like was pulled off gravity and shattered harsh reality pelted her—he was loving her to redeem his guilty.

Her lips were quaking as he leaned forward and claimed softly; mouths rasped, asking another duel of clashing tongue and scraping teeth. His arms were supportively embracing her in possessive tenancy as her silent sobs pitied her own self. Still, when his thrusts fastening and their hips buckling together, as euphoria was waiting in gate, she wrapped her legs on his waist in hope to never let go—that he would become hers and no one else would own him anymore. Right when their climaxes hit the spot, the butterflies were ghosting, scratching every fiber of their beings and after last shocks, she whispered his name so lovingly in dark; now evenly tears were cryptic—between gusto and melancholy. The wave that gushed them both in a dangle-bathing-sweat was still hollering upon him as she kept see the dazed look on his eyes; evident was real of his prompt-paced-breathing and lastly what she felt was his forehead which fell against her.

She didn't care albeit he couldn't love her heartfeltly because now, right now he pronounced her name alone and alone in this silence and what would matter more if he had already been hers—for now onwards?

Wherefore his heart was not officially hers; still his soul and body were hers and _lifetime_ hers.

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Still there were lost pieces there and here, I was aware it. Thank you for reading.

Please _review_?

_©2008 by pastelcolor_


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